The detective let him go.
Rick knew he’d be followed—for a time, at least. He returned to Arturo’s by a roundabout route and managed to vanish, at least from his tail’s point of view.
Helen was waiting for him in the parlor, sitting with Arturo on a burgundy velvet settee. Rick calmed himself a moment and didn’t instantly leap forward to put himself between them. She was smiling, and Arturo wasn’t doing anything but talking.
“Ricardo! I was hoping you wouldn’t return, and that you’d left Helen here with us.”
Helen giggled—she held an empty tumbler. They’d probably been at this for hours.
“Thanks for entertaining her for me,” Rick said. “My pleasure. Really.”
“Helen, we need to talk,” Rick said, gesturing to the doorway.
“Your friend’s a charmer, Rick,” she said.
“Yes, he is. Let’s go.”
She pushed herself from the seat. Glancing over her shoulder, she waved fingers at him, and Arturo answered with an indulgent smile. Rick put an arm over her shoulder and guided her into the safe room.
“Don’t be angry,” she said. “I needed to ask him if there was a phone.”
“Who did you need to call?”
“The police,” she said, and ducked her gaze. “I didn’t want you to get hurt, so I called the police and told them there might be trouble at Murray’s.”
And there was trouble, and the police had shown up.
“I’d almost taken care of Blake when the police arrived,” he said.
He didn’t say, You should have trusted me.
She paled. “What happened?”
“He’s in jail now, but he’s not going to stay there unless they get some proof that he committed those murders. They know he did it, they just don’t have evidence.”
She paced back and forth along the foot of the bed. Her shoulders tightened, and she hugged herself.
“I think you should go talk to them, Helen. You can testify, Blake will go to prison, and he won’t bother you again. You’ll be safe.”
“I can’t do that, Rick. I can’t say anything. He’ll kill me, he’ll—”
“Not if he’s in prison.”
“But what if he gets out? The first thing he’ll do is come after me.”
“I’ll kill him first,” Rick said.
“Rick, no. I don’t want you to get in trouble over me. I don’t even know why you’re looking out for me, you barely know me—”
“I’m doing it because I can,” he said. “But if you go to the police, they’ll take care of Blake.”
She moved close, pressing herself to him, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his chest. This again. She was so close, he could hear blood pouring through her veins, near the surface. She was flushed and so warm. He rubbed his face along her hair, gathering that warmth to him.
“Helen,” he said with something like despair.
“What’s the matter?” she said.
“I’m not . . . right for you. This is dangerous—”